


Protector

by commodorecliche



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Yikes, and my brain went straight angst i'm sorry, it was for a prompt man, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commodorecliche/pseuds/commodorecliche
Summary: Shiro's breath is growing weaker with every second that goes by, and the only thing Keith can think... is that there's nothing he can do.





	Protector

**Author's Note:**

> anon request for the prompt _"you don't have to protect me"_

Shiro's breath is growing more labored with every second that goes by, and the only thing that Keith can think is that there's nothing he can do.

It doesn't stop him from trying though.

There's blood on the floor, trailing across the stone slabs, past Keith's discarded helmet. There's blood on the wall that Shiro is slumped against, blood on Shiro's armor. There's blood on Keith's hands and arms - splattered up from the wound that he'd tried (and is still trying) to keep pressure on.

Shiro's whole body was shaking just a moment ago, but he's growing stiller by the minute, and Keith doesn't know what to do except hold pressure, and hope that he can reach his bayard in time if (and when) the Galra guards catch up to them.

They will. Sooner or later, they will. And Keith knows it.

His hands shake as they press a boulder's weight into Shiro's abdomen - anything, fucking _anything_ , just to try to stop the blood-flow. Keith has never felt strong enough or capable enough, not compared to Shiro, and he doesn't feel strong enough now, when it matters most. Despite his desperation, or perhaps because of it, he feels as though every ounce of strength he has is slipping away.

He's weak, he's not enough, and the color is draining from Shiro's face.

He presses down harder. Shiro cries out in pain and Keith tries his best to shush him, to comfort him through the stabbing ache in his gut.

_Please, god, for once let it be enough... Just let this be enough to stop the bleeding._

"K-Keith, y-you-" Shiro starts, clearly struggling around his words.

"Shhh...," Keith forces out again, more harshly than he means to, but every word Shiro speaks is a breath he can't afford to waste, "It's... You, you're fine."

It's a lie.

Keith knows it. Shiro especially knows it.

"K-Keith, you have... to go," Shiro's teeth are clenched, his words sharpened, pointed hisses through the bone. Keith won't even acknowledge it.

Somewhere in the hallway behind him, he can hear the distant, sharp clanks of sentry footfall. They don't have much time. Shiro's gaze darts towards the noises and then frantically back to Keith.

"Keith, pl-please!," He grits out, "Please... go!"

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

Keith whips his head around to check his blindsides - the guards haven't made it to them yet, but they're closing in and the two of them know it. His eyes hone in on his bayard on the floor to his left, trying his best to calculate how quickly he could grab it should he have to. His brain is foggy - clouded from stress and from sheer panicked desperation.

Keith's eyes go back to his hands, still pressing intensely on the gaping wound in Shiro's side. He's sure that beneath the mangled armor, it's a mess of flesh, organ, and blood, and Keith's stomach churns. He knows that he's just as pale as Shiro, just for far different reasons.

He isn't ready for this - he isn't ready to have to let go.

The metallic footfalls echo down the hallway and Keith knows they have but a few precious seconds before the sentries find the two of them.

"Shiro, put your hands here!" Keith instructs, lifting one hand off of Shiro's abdomen to guide Shiro's own hand down to it, "Press hard, okay?"

Shiro barely does.

"Shiro, pl-" Keith starts, but he's cut off by the sound of Shiro's own pleading whisper.

"Keith! G-go! While you st-still _can_ ," Shiro heaves in a few gasping breaths, and Keith can see him literally _fight_ to try to retain his composure. The intense furrow of his brow, the sweat that's dripping down his temples, the glimmer in his eyes that tells Keith he's on the verge of tears. Keith can see right through his faked aplomb.

He's scared.

He's dying.

And they both know it.

Shiro steadies himself as best he can; his breathing still so laborious and haggard. But he calms his voice - though he can't calm the tremble in it - and softens his tone to one that Keith knows is meant just for him.

"You don't... need to- to protect m-me..."

Shiro smiles at him - a private smile, the gentle, loving grin he's given Keith countless times in the seclusion of their quarters. Keith knows he's trying to say goodbye.

Keith shakes his head vigorously - a silent refusal to respond or acknowledge Shiro's attempt - and grabs Shiro's other arm. He presses both of Shiro's hands firmly against the marred flesh of his abdomen.

"Hold it tight, keep pressure on it!"

Keith doesn't have time to wait for Shiro's reply. Three of the sentries are on them in an instant, and he barely has time to scramble for his bayard before dodging the blaster fire coming from around the corner.

He can barely dodge their shots - and as he charges them, bayard at the ready, he feels the hot, stinging burn as at least one shot grazes his arm.

His weapon swinging, Keith assaults them with desperation - pure, frenetic motions against their guns. It's perhaps only luck that he manages to deflect a couple of shots back at them, injuring two of them, and leaving only one functional for him to strike down with his sword. It falls to the ground alongside the other two in a slump, and within an instant, Keith is back at Shiro's side.

His hands are barely holding his stomach - the blood-flow hasn't stopped - and Keith can't help the broken sob that slips past his lips. He scrambles to replace Shiro's hands with his own, to put more pressure on it, but it just won't stop.

"Oh, god,"

Blood, flesh, and paling skin.

Shiro stares at him through foggy, wet eyes.

Somewhere, very far away from him, Keith can hear the muffled sounds of the other paladins radioing through his helmet.

"Keith," Shiro whispers and he already sounds like a ghost to Keith. So far away from him, slipping further, with nothing that Keith can hold on to. Shiro begins to slump a little more, body growing limper as he huffs out painful breaths.

"No, no, no, no," Keith croons, slipping in close, trying desperately to cradle Shiro againgst him while still keeping pressure on his side. But it isn't working - nothing is - and Keith can feel his barely-contained composure slipping away from him more and more. He presses his back against the wall, hauls Shiro between his legs, Shiro's back against his chest. Keith keeps one hand held firm against Shiro's side, but gives up on the other, lifts it instead to stroke through Shiro's hair.

"Keith, don't... don't let me...," Shiro breathes again, and all Keith can do is press their temples together, grit his teeth, and pray to god they've got enough time.

The other paladins call for them through radio static. 

//"Keith! Shiro! Come in, do you read?? We're en route to your location!"//

_Please, god, find us..._

"Ke-Keith," It's hardly even a word anymore - Shiro's barely got enough strength to push it past his lips.

Shiro's breath is growing weaker with every second that goes by, and the only thing Keith can think... is that there's nothing he can do. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And as usual, I always welcome your comments! Sorry uh, for the no-comfort angst. 
> 
> rebloggable version of this ficlet **[here](http://commodorecliche.tumblr.com/post/161567708818/sheith-you-dont-need-to-protect-me)**
> 
> i have a [tumblr](https://commodorecliche.tumblr.com), and if you feel like sending me a request, you're more than welcome to do so!
> 
> PS: Shiro's last words were gunna be "don't let me go", enjoy.


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